


Look at the stars, see how they shine for you

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Wings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 20:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: A little something sweet and sad.Not too sad though.





	Look at the stars, see how they shine for you

**Author's Note:**

> I got nothing. Remember to drink water, take your meds, and get up off your ass and move around a bit for your circulation.

Crowley knew that the angel was changing even if Aziraphale remained unaware of it. Crowley first began to really notice it at the Globe, though that time in Rome could be seen as a starting off point as well. Only the rich and aristocratic wore robes that pristine white, and adorned them with gold. 

Gone were all the humble materials, the angel dressed in shining blue satin with gold thread woven throughout it, most of the lace and buttons gold as well. All Aziraphale had worn up to this point was a variation of outfits in white made from the humblest materials. Crowley tried not to stare, but he couldn’t really make himself look away either. The clothe’s hue brought out the blue in the angel’s eyes. It was distracting. 

The next time they met, Aziraphale was resplendent in earthen tone brocade, gold lace, and silk. Crowley got to find out that Aziraphale had standards now, even while a revolution involving a big head-cutting machine was getting carried away. 

In Crowley’s opinion, Aziraphale really came into his own though during the Victorian Age. The angel had a real love for velvet, from his vest to his top hat of feathered velvet adorned with a gold band around it, reminding the demon of a halo. He wondered If Aziraphale had done that intentionally, or if it were a subconscious choice on his part. This was also about around the time where the angel began his lifelong love affair with tartan. 

The fashions come and go like the human who create them, but they remained mostly the same. It’s the ‘mostly’ that had the gears in Crowley’s head turning. The demon worried about the angel, that Aziraphale might be doing his own version of a saunter vaguely downward. Crowley didn’t want that. He’d kill to keep that from happening. He’d die to keep that from happening. 

Not only would the angel’s wings get charred until all the feathers are black, Aziraphale’s true form would be warped into something far different from what it is now. It’s what God did to all the demons before they were cast down into Hell. They weren’t allowed to leave Heaven with the forms she had originally given them. The Morningstar had been the most beautiful of them all...once. 

Crowley found that he couldn’t remember the last time he saw Aziraphale’s true face. Well over six thousand years ago, when Heaven was new, and Crowley was still someone of importance. 

“It’s all so lovely, don’t you think?” Aziraphale said, interrupting Crowley’s thoughts. He was watching the angel stare up at the sky, admiring the stars. They were out alone in the countryside, having just visited Anathema and Newt. Unsurprisingly, those two had gotten married. Surprisingly, they had decided to stay in Tadfield, the couple buying the cottage Anathema had been previously renting. 

Not that Crowley cared about any of that, but Aziraphale did so here they were in Tadfield of all places, taking a long moment on a summer’s night before heading back to London again. They were currently laying on their backs in a field with a tartan blanket beneath them. The blanket hadn’t been in the Bentley before, not until Aziraphale asked Crowley to pull over out in the middle of nowhere.

“Yeah, Book Girl and the Other One look happy enough I guess.” Crowley shrugged, glancing up at the stars before turning back to what he had been admiring before. 

“They have names, my dear.” Azirphale admonished, who remained seemingly oblivious to his starstruck audience. “No, I meant the constellations.”

“Those have names too. Tell me which ones you like best, and I’ll tell you a little story about it.” Crowley said with a strange little smile. 

“Oh don’t make me choose.” Aziraphale said, studying the night sky. “Andromeda is a funny one isn’t it?”

“Not surprised. Gabriel made that one.” Crowley snorted, “Cassiopeia! Now there’s a decent constellation.”

“What? Not partial to Serpens?” Aziraphale teased, doing that little wiggle he did when the angel was pleased with himself, or about something dealing with food. Crowley lived for that wiggle. 

“Oddly enough, I made that one. Guess snakes were always in the cards for me.” Crowley said to be met with a prolonged silence. He looked over to find Aziraphale studying him very intently back. “What?”

“I don’t know how to ask without upsetting or insulting or hurting you.” Was all the angel said, carefully returning his attention back upward. “Only so many angels helped God make the stars after she created light, two to be exact, and you never did ask for my name up on the wall. You just knew who I was. I think about that probably more than I should, my dear one.”

“You can ask if you like. If anyone in this entire existence can ask that particular question, it would be you so ask already.” Crowley said quickly before they both lost their courage in this matter. He knew Aziraphale might never bring it up again if Crowley didn’t antagonize him now into answering. “Can you name me, oh Angel of the Eastern Gate?”

“I love what you have created, Raphael.” Aziraphale said softly, the sound of his former name making Crowley look away and up. The angel watched as a few tears escaped golden eyes to drown themselves in red hair. Though it hurt him to watch the demon cry, Aziraphale understood why. “And I love you as you are now.”

“Can you do something for me?” Crowley cursed himself for being so weak, but he had to know. He had to be sure about something. He hadn’t been called that name since the beginning. Hearing it had awakened a terrible need, one that Crowley had been trying to kill time and time again. 

“Anything.” Because of course his angel would say that. 

“Would you show me your true form? The one she made for you?” Crowley made himself ask. His own had been taken away, and it had been so long, but he was essentially asking the angel to get their version of naked.

Aziraphale’s immediate answer lit up the night like a sudden dawn, making Crowley gasp. Embedded in multiple pairs of wings, hundreds of eyes of every color known and a few that were not opened for the first time in several millennia to gaze down at the demon. 

The wings and circling diamond like comets were centered around a being made of crystallized light, whose movements were the true music of heaven. 

“Oh, Aziraphale...” Was all Crowley could come up with. The angel’s song was one he had not heard in far too long. The former archangel wept silently, refusing to turn away to hide it though it hurt to be reminded of what had been taken away, and what had been left behind. Above all else though, Aziraphale was most definitely still an angel of God, not a single feather tarnished, or eye blinded. 

“...how lovely you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments go to Anathema and Newt’s wedding. Your kudos crash the reception for the cake.


End file.
